


In a Kingdom by the Sea

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Human OFC, Human/Vampire Relationship, Illnesses, Medical Procedures, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Jonathan Reid, POV Original Female Character, Post-Canon, Post-World War I, Protective Jonathan Reid, Rated Explicit for later chapters, References to Edgar Allen Poe, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vampire Violence, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreamsOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyesOf the beautiful Annabel Lee"Annabel Lee," by Edgar Allen PoeRemaining at Pembroke after the Skal Epidemic that rampaged through London, Jonathan Reid continues searching for a cure as he also works to uphold his Oath. Clinging to his lingering mortality, he finds himself swayed by the plight of a particular young woman from Whitechapel, whom Fate seems to keep throwing in his path.
Relationships: Elisabeth Ashbury & Jonathan Reid, Jonathan Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 34





	1. That a Maiden There Lived Whom You May Know by the Name of Annabel Lee

**Author's Note:**

> I just tore through this game and could NOT resist a fic idea springing into being as I did. This takes place after the game, but I'm twisting and doing what I want with canon, as well as my own OC that I thought up as I played. I've also started this with a half-cocked idea and just an urge to write, so we'll see what happens.
> 
> Currently I have this marked as a bittersweet ending because I have several ideas I haven't decided on, but this is not going to be a full happy ending. I'll put in the notes if it changes from bittersweet to something else.
> 
> Annabel Blackburn's [face claim](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1c/27/0d/1c270d0f3645d6fb8d3034b9888944d9.jpg), and Poe's poem,["Annabel Lee"](https://poets.org/poem/annabel-lee), from which she takes her namesake (and which will be used for chapter titles on occasion as well as the title of the work.)
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

**Whitechapel, 1919**

This was worse than she had seen her before.

She had become even more frail, until the bones of her wrists and collarbone stuck out prominently, and her cheekbones were pallid and sharp. The hacking cough was nearly constant, her handkerchief almost stained completely by flecks of blood.

When she slumped back on her pillows, Annabel hurried forward, but her mother waved her away.

“No, child, I —”

But her words were lost in more coughs.

It wouldn’t do.

Annabel watched her struggling to breathe for a few moments longer before she turned on her heel, determined this time. For months her mother’s health had deteriorated further, but Whitechapel had been in chaos and she hadn’t dared to leave the house. Really, the entire city had seemed on the brink of constant disaster, what with the war and the way the epidemics had spread.

She had been turned away from the hospitals before, but now she wouldn’t take no for an answer. If need be, she would sit outside the doors all night until they helped.

To increase her chances she changed into her nicest skirt and the cream blouse with lace trim, the only like it that she’d been able to afford on her meager wages. Perhaps if they thought she had a bit of money, they’d be more willing to help her. After all, that one ambulance driver she had met before had asked if she could pay.

Once he found out she couldn’t, well…

Shaking aside the bitter recollection, she fixed her Sunday hat on her head with a pin, and took a moment to study the effect in the dusty mirror. Fixing a curl that rested on her cheek, she noticed a slight fraying on her wool skirt, and did her best to tuck stray threads under where it was cinched at her waist.

After giving her small boots a good brushing to get the dirt and grime off, she tugged them on and grabbed her coin purse. If it took every shilling she possessed, she would get a doctor here to see to her mother.

Annabel locked up after herself, checking that the door really was secure before she turned down the hall. For so long now the streets and even the buildings hadn’t been safe, the epidemic driving its victims mad in terrifying ways.

The least she could say for her mother was that she was not, by some miracle, similarly affected.

She tiptoed past the landlord's door, then raced down the stairs, hoping to avoid the disgusting man. The night air was cold in her lungs, tinged slightly with smoke so that she coughed into her handkerchief as she tried to take in her surroundings. Instinctively she checked the white fabric, but was relieved when she still continued to function and breathe as she was supposed to.

By another miracle, she had not seemed to catch the consumption that was destroying her mother.

As she hurried through the streets, she wasn’t surprised to see that they were still mostly deserted this time of night. The lingering scars from the war and pandemic remained, and few still ventured out if they could avoid it.

Sometimes she wondered if Whitechapel would ever recover, even if the rest of London did.

“Looking to buy more Swanborough’s Cordial, my dear?” a familiar voice called.

Annabel sighed, briefly inclining her head in a curt greeting. “No, thank you, Miss Swanborough.”

“Mother feeling better, then?” Loretta Swanborough folded her hands before herself, offering a politely curious smile.

“I’m afraid she’s taken a turn for the worse.” Annabel didn’t linger to talk, not wishing to be conned out of more money. In a desperate moment she had tried, but her coin had bought what seemed to be not much better than overpriced water.

“Sorry to hear that, my dear. If you have need of me, you know where I’ll be.”

Annabel continued on her way, resisting the urge to stop and give the other woman a piece of her mind. After all, she was likely trying to survive, just as everyone else in the district.

Crossing the bridge, she took a moment to glance up at the rather imposing building in the distance. She knew the way by heart, now, after the many times she had hurried this way in hopes of finding help. It had been a while since she had made the trek at this time of night, though, and her nerves prickled as she continued toward the hospital.

She came upon no one else in the streets, and gratefully stepped into the lights surrounding Pembroke. There were still tents in the courtyard, but they now seemed unoccupied, no longer overrun with an overflow of patients suffering the Spanish flu. Passing through, she glanced for the telltale sign of a white coat, but saw none.

Annabel stopped in front of the large wooden desk in the foyer, and fixed her clothes into a semblance of perfection before stepping forward. A nurse was seated behind the desk, looking over papers with a steaming mug of tea beside her. She didn’t look up at Annabel’s approach, and after waiting to be acknowledged she finally cleared her throat.

Slowly the nurse raised her gaze, seemingly annoyed at the interruption, and Annabel realized they had met before. The nurse must have remembered as well, because a definite look of increased irritation came upon her.

“Yes, miss?”

Annabel straightened herself as best as she could, though she was slight in frame and knew she was far from intimidating. “I need to speak with a doctor. Immediately, it’s — it’s urgent.” She was pleased when her voice did not tremble, but she swallowed hard after speaking.

It was difficult not to remember how many times she had been turned away.

“I’m afraid there aren’t any to spare,” the nurse informed her, and shuffled some papers before lowering her gaze back to her work.

“Please, it’s my mother. She’s incredibly ill.”

“And where is your mother, then?” The nurse didn’t even look up this time.

“She’s at home, too weak to travel —”

“Can you pay?”

Annabel swallowed down the tinge of rage that flourished within her at the words. “It is my understanding that Pembroke is here to help those in need, not exploit them.”

“Listen, miss.” The nurse heaved a sigh and glanced up briefly. “Our beds are full and our doctors are all tending to the patients we already have. I could free up a bed for the right price, but —”

“Please, you must let me speak with a doctor!” Her voice rose with her desperation, at the indignity of again being treated as a nuisance. When the nurse continued her reading, Annabel’s composure slipped further and she slapped a hand on the desk between them. “I demand that you —”

“What’s this, then?”

The deep voice had interrupted from the stairs, and the nurse immediately sat up straight, pushing aside the files that had so absorbed her. Annabel looked behind the nurse, her rage turning to confusion.

An elegantly dressed man was coming down the stairs, frowning as his discerning gaze took in the scene before him. He had dark hair and a full beard, and as he closed the distance to the desk she found that he was incredibly tall. His eyes were a pale, icy blue, and a strong nose lent something of a hawkish nature to his sharp features.

“N-nothing, Dr. Reid. I was explaining to this young woman that we don’t have any more space or any doctors to spare —”

“Come now, Nurse Hawkins. If she needs assistance, we should see what we can spare.” The man turned a curious frown to Annabel, and when their eyes met she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps he could see through her, see _all_ of her.

The sensation was difficult to shake, and she shivered under his keen regard.

Remembering the urgency that had driven her here, though, she raised her chin with determination, deciding it best to address this new sliver of hope that stood before her.

“I am Doctor Jonathan Reid. What seems to be the issue, Miss…?”

“Blackburn. Annabel Blackburn, Dr. Reid.” She swallowed and fidgeted with the purse she held. “It’s my mother, she’s incredibly ill and I haven’t been able to get a doctor to visit her for some time.”

“I see.” He clasped his hands behind his back and circled the desk to stand beside her, until she had to crane her neck to peer up at him. “And what sort of illness does your mother have?”

“Consumption,” she answered. “She’s — she’s been coughing up blood, and I fear she’s getting worse. She can hardly breathe, and gets weaker every moment.”

“Where do you live, Miss Blackburn?”

A timid smile tugged at Annabel’s mouth, encouraged by his question instead of more insistence that assistance would not be offered. “In Whitechapel, not far from here.”

“Well, lead the way then. I was about to begin my rounds, but if she is as dire as you say allow me to accompany you.” He gestured for her to precede him, and frowned when she did not immediately turn away.

“T-truly? I — thank you, Dr. Reid,” she said, and in her gratitude she took a hesitant step toward him before remembering herself. She cleared her throat and instead turned away, absently fixing her hat as she began a brisk pace out of the hospital.

Doctor Reid easily fell into step beside her, the long coat he wore billowing with his quick strides. As they made their way toward Whitechapel, his eyes scanned the area around them before it settled on Annabel once more.

“Tell me, Miss Blackburn,” he broke their silence, “how long has your mother been ill?”

“It’s been — at least three years, now.” She thought back to the letter she had received, the months that had followed before she realized the situation was serious enough that she was needed at home. A heavy sigh left her at the memories, and she glanced up to find the doctor’s attention still fixed on her.

“How is her fever?”

“Constant, and much worse than it was last week.”

“I see.”

They fell silent once more, crossing the bridge before Annabel turned in the direction of their squalid residence. She vaguely wondered what a doctor of his caliber and stature must think of this part of town, but he seemed unfazed by any of it.

“Doctor Reid, what a pleasant surprise to see you again,” Loretta Swanborough called as they passed.

Annabel chanced a glance at her stoic companion, and noticed a brief scowl cross his features before they settled back into neutrality.

“Good evening, Miss Swanborough,” he greeted politely, but he let Annabel continue to lead him, clearly uninterested in stopping for conversation.

After they had passed he looked over his shoulder and then sighed. “I hope you have not wasted your time on such trivial cures as those Miss Swanborough peddles,” he murmured.

Annabel pointedly looked away, feeling a flush come to her cheeks as she wondered what he would say if he knew.

“Ah.” He reached long fingers to straighten his tie. “Well, desperation is understandable —”

“I would not have had to if Pembroke had offered to see her,” Annabel gritted out, unable to resist the harsh tone of her voice.

To her surprise a furtive glance at Doctor Reid showed kindness and understanding on his face.

“I apologize that my colleagues did not assist you.”

She was further surprised when she realized he was being genuine.

With a regretful nod she continued to lead him in silence, until they were at the door of their building. Again she worried over the good doctor’s reaction, but he still seemed intent on following her and making no judgment in passing.

Annabel led the way up to their residence, fumbling with the keys as she hoped the landlord was elsewhere. Rent was due soon, and she was still wondering how she could ever hope to get it all together in time now that they were almost out of money.

Once the door was open she stood back and gestured him in before quickly closing and locking the portal behind them. He strode within and gave the place a brief once over, but at the sound of a gasping, hacking cough from the other room he turned and made his way to the bedroom. Annabel followed at a distance and lingered in the doorway, fidgeting the fastening of her purse.

“Mother, I brought a doctor to see you,” she called, and watched with increasing trepidation as her mother’s eyes barely fluttered at the sound of her voice.

Doctor Reid pulled the chair in the room to the side of the bed and took a seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Good evening, Mrs. Blackburn. I am Doctor Jonathan Reid of Pembroke Hospital,” he began in a subdued, soothing voice. “Your daughter came to fetch me, I understand you’ve been ill for sometime.”

“She...she was always a...good girl,” her mother rasped. After a few labored breaths and another heaving cough, she shook her head. “But she should not have...brought you. It is...too late.”

“May I examine you, Mrs. Blackburn, since I am here?” Doctor Reid continued, undaunted by the frail yet determined assertion.

“You may...doctor...but I see...little point.”

She coughed again, leaning over the edge of the bed as she gagged, more blood coming away on her hand where the handkerchief did not cover it.

Doctor Reid took a deep, steadying breath, and Annabel frowned slightly as she watched him gather himself. After a moment that stretched longer than she expected, the doctor finally reached out for her mother’s wrist and pressed two fingers to it.

“I understand from Miss Blackburn that you have been sick for about three years, is that right?”

“Longer,” her mother rasped out. “I only told her...three years ago…”

“Ah. Were you seen by a doctor then?” The doctor continued his examination, releasing her wrist to press a hand to her forehead instead.

“Yes. As I got...worse...I wrote to her. I didn’t want...to worry her…unnecessarily.”

As her mother trailed off into a string of rattling, gurgling coughs, she slumped back on the pillows, the effort to breathe clearly difficult.

“May I auscultate you, Mrs. Blackburn?” As he requested it he withdrew a stethoscope from his coat, and held it out to show her.

Weakly her mother nodded, and Doctor Reid readied the stethoscope, moving the sheets away from her chest so that he could access it.

“Take as deep a breath for me as you can, please.”

The effort to do so was impeded by the way she could only cough, and he continued to listen as she did. With a sigh he finally lowered the stethoscope, hanging it around his neck as he thought.

Finally he reached a hand to his patient, carefully laying it over hers. “Rest now, Mrs. Blackburn, while I speak with your daughter.”

He patted her hand gently and then stood, gesturing for Annabel to join him in the other room. Once they were out of earshot he turned to face her, a somber look on his face.

In truth, it told her all she needed to know, what she had been doing her best to avoid acknowledging. All the same, her heart sank, despite her intuitions that it was the worst.

“Miss Blackburn, it would be a disservice to lie to you,” Doctor Reid began softly. “Your mother is dying. I am afraid her condition is incurable, and has progressed too far. If I had seen her years ago I would have had recommendations, but I am...too late. I am so sorry.”

A strange, numb acceptance spread through her chest, and she looked down at where her fingers worried the tassel of her bag as she gathered her thoughts. After a moment she took a deep breath and raised her gaze to the piercing eyes that were watching her, full of concern.

“What — _ahem_ — what can I do for her in the meantime? To make her comfortable, and her pass — t-to ease her passing?” She was even unmoved by how steady her voice was, though she tripped on the words.

She had known, and cursed the fact that she hadn’t been able to obtain medical care for her mother sooner.

If she had, perhaps…

Shaking herself she returned her attention to Doctor Reid, who had paused in the middle of an explanation.

“Are you all right, Miss Blackburn?” His brows gathered as his gaze wandered over her face.

Clearing her throat again, as if it could force her voice to work, she gave a jerky nod. “Yes, I — I am sorry, could you please repeat that?”

He watched her carefully for a moment before he nodded sympathetically. “I cannot do much, but I can offer you some tonics for her cough and the pain. They should help her rest more comfortably, at least until…”

_Until it takes her._

Annabel took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as she absorbed his words. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate you taking the time, especially if it was a waste —”

“No, Miss Blackburn, it was not a waste. I am sorry I cannot do more, truly. But it is my duty as a doctor to do what I can for her, now that I am here.” He offered a smile, and hesitated before reaching to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”

There was an odd quality to the way that he asked it, and the words were out of her mouth before she could even think to demure and tell him that no, she was fine.

“Is there anything you can give me for sleep? I’ve been having a terrible time of it, lately, and I’m afraid I’ve worried myself into illness, as well.”

Doctor Reid released her shoulder and nodded. “Yes, I can get you something to help you out. I don’t have the tonics with me, but if you give me an hour I can return, if that is all right with you.”

Annabel nodded, feeling slightly dazed, and rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. For all of your help.”

“Of course, Miss Blackburn. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

He crossed to the door and disappeared through it, and she shook herself out of her thoughts to lock it behind him.

The flat looked different, now, as if she was seeing it through another’s eyes. Pressing her lips together, she moved to the chest where she kept her things and opened it. Carefully she placed her hat and purse within, and then changed out of her nice garments to the ones she had worn earlier as she tended her mother.

There was no reason to ruin another outfit, since she would simply have to add it to the burn pile later.

For a moment she stared into the mirror, eyes out of focus until she saw two of herself staring back. It was a strange lie her mind was telling her, since she knew soon she would be alone.

Looking away she took another steadying breath, and tried to still the trembling in her hands before entering her mother’s room.

In her sleep at the moment, she almost looked peaceful, and it would have been hard to tell she was sick if she hadn’t looked so frail. Yet the sloping forehead was covered in sweat, and the strong, dark brows Annabel had inherited were puckered together slightly. Her once full lips were now thinned and parched, dry and cracking as labored rasps passed between them.

Stepping forward, Annabel almost stumbled as her eyes finally began to fill with tears. She sank into the chair Doctor Reid had pulled to the bedside, and clasped her mother’s hand in her own. The fingers were too thin, so that they were merely bones in hers, too weak to return the reassuring squeeze she gave them.

“Mother?” she whispered, and brown eyes fluttered open, searching out her gaze.

“Annabel? Is that...you?”

Annabel pressed her lips together, choking back a sob. “Yes, it’s me.” She rubbed her thumb along the hot skin of her mother’s hand. “The — the doctor is bringing something for you. It should help you feel better.”

“Doctor? Was a...doctor here?”

Hanging her head, Annabel hurriedly wiped at a tear that ran down her cheek. “Yes, yes he was. I — I should let you rest.”

“Such a...good girl. I’m sorry you...had to spend so long taking...care of me.”

“I don’t regret a thing,” Annabel assured, squeezing her mother’s hand again. “I love you, mum.”

“Love...you...my Annabel Lee.”

She slipped back into her troubled sleep, and Annabel spent a few moments longer studying her face. It soon became painful, listening to the ragged breathing of a woman who had once been so full of life, of possibility. Who had packed up from a life in America to follow love across the ocean, uncertain what awaited her on the other side.

It was a bravery that had been passed on to her daughter, even if at times Annabel found herself apprehensive in an ever-changing world.

When a firm rapping at the door sounded more than an hour later, Annabel stirred from the silent vigil she had kept beside her mother’s sick bed. As she approached the door a soft call announced that it was Doctor Reid returning.

Annabel opened the door a crack to make sure, and then stepped back to let him inside.

“Apologies, Miss Blackburn, for the late hour.”

“Not at all, Dr. Reid, I appreciate you attending to us tonight.” She offered him a soft smile, blinking away the renewed rush of tears that threatened to overtake her.

“I managed to put together a few vials of tonic for your mother. They should help and allow her to rest peacefully in her final hours.” He passed her the vials, his fingers cold as they closed hers around the offered medicine.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. Words can’t express how it feels to know that at — at least she’ll be comfortable.”

He nodded solemnly, and then withdrew a small case from his coat. “As for yourself, Miss Blackburn, I have a few things to help you with your sleep as well. Please, do not take more than one dosage, even if sleep does not claim you right away.”

For a moment she forgot she had confessed her troubles to him, but she smiled gratefully nonetheless. “Thank you again, Dr. Reid. Seems I owe you much for your services tonight.”

“Of course not, miss. As I said before, it is my duty.” He folded his hands behind himself, and glanced in the direction of her mother’s room once more. “Is she resting?”

“Yes.” Annabel moved to the small table and set the medicines he had given her down. “Should I — I should give her some, to help her sleep more soundly.”

“If you do not mind, I would like to observe her for a few moments after, as well.”

She nodded her approval, and he followed her as she carried one of the vials to her mother’s bedside. After the dose was administered, her mother barely stirring to drain it, Annabel took the seat beside her and Doctor Reid stood sentinel against the wall.

“Would you like a chair, Dr. Reid —”

“No, please do not trouble yourself. I just want to verify the medicine’s efficacy, and then I will leave you to your rest.”

His voice was still low and soothing, and she found herself settling into a peaceful daze as she watched her mother’s sleeping form. She wasn’t certain how much time had passed before she felt a large hand on her shoulder.

“Miss Blackburn, she is resting soundly. You should seek your bed for the night, you need your rest just as much.”

Absently she nodded, glancing at her mother once more before she pushed herself to her feet.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate your help.” She walked him to the door, but he paused before passing through it.

“May I call on you in a few evenings, to see how you are both doing?” he offered.

She nodded, giving him a polite smile. “Yes, that would be very kind of you.”

“Should you need me before that, you can find me at Pembroke. I work the night shift.” He waited a moment, still smiling almost pityingly, and yet it was with such kindness that she found herself returning it.

“Thank you, and...good night, doctor.”

Doctor Reid offered her one more nod of farewell, and then turned in the doorway. His long strides carried him through the hall, down the stairs, and out into the blackness of the night.


	2. Nor the Demons Down Under the Sea

He had gotten used to the night, in ways he hadn’t expected. Sometimes he wondered if it was merely his new — _condition_ — but he found himself looking forward to the peace and quiet of the moon above. Of dark, unpopulated streets, of time to focus and hone in on what he had set his mind to.

Really, the darkness only helped his determination in his task.

It had been months now since the events of the epidemic, since his trip to Scotland where he had finally learned the truth. His promise to Lady Ashbury to continue his search for a cure weighed heavily on his mind, but he frequently found himself distracted by lesser problems.

Duty, the oath he had taken as a doctor, still weighed with equal importance on him.

With a heavy sigh he sat back from his desk, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to relieve the way the words from his notes seemed burned into his retinas. It felt like ages since he had a real lead, since he had found anything of substance. He had the blood samples from Ashbury, and even a blood sample he had requested from Old Bridget, as well as the ones he had taken off Harriet Jones’ malformed corpse.

All of them were only bringing up more questions rather than answers, yet despite this, he found himself hanging on to hope.

After all, he had as much time as he needed.

With that thought on his mind he pushed himself to his feet, dragging a hand down his beard as he considered. His mind was muddled, too worried about the world of the living, and he decided it best to start his rounds.

There was a certain peace in the routine he now found at Pembroke. He enjoyed it, relished the way it gave him a simpler purpose, beyond his research into a world he hadn’t known existed before the events of only a few months ago. Even Edgar’s transformation had become something reassuring, seeing the way they both focused on running Pembroke.

Help the living, just as they had sworn to do as mortal men.

Several patients were long-term fixtures of the hospital, and he stopped to speak with them with incredible ease. Others he merely checked on, doing what he could to ascertain their illnesses and causes. After administering what help he could, he stopped in the foyer, heaving a sigh as he pulled his pocket watch out.

Every time he glanced at it he thought of Mary, a bitterness seeping into him until he wanted nothing more than to lie down and let the earth consume him.

Instead he pushed aside the grief when he realized it was getting late, and he had had another intention for the night, which he had almost forgotten.

It had been two days since he checked on Miss Blackburn and her mother, and he meant to live up to his word not to leave them without medical assistance. Assured that those at Pembroke were in good hands for the moment, he sought his coat and set out into the night.

The streets were so much calmer, now, and it was strange for him to walk through the district to Whitechapel without facing any sort of harassment. McCullum had, for the time being, called off the Guard of Priwen, and the problem of rampaging, rogue Skals was almost non-existent. Silent streets, still mostly deserted as the city recovered, somehow put him more on guard than knowing there was danger lurking around every corner.

Some nights he wondered if he was simply not used to everything he now knew, or if he felt as though this was a deep breath before the plunge.

Shaking off the lingering paranoia, he continued into Whitechapel, taking in the wounds that remained as well as the attempts that were being made during the day to heal them. Windows were being boarded up or replaced, paint notating the ill and dead being covered or removed. There were piles that still smoked from where linens, clothes, and furniture had been incinerated during the day, and the overwhelming scent of burnt cloth and wool permeated the dank, rotten smell of the streets.

He had been slightly surprised by the difference in how Miss Blackburn had dressed and where she lived, but he reasoned that times were tough for everyone. If she had spent the last few years taking care of a dying mother as well as everything else befalling London, it made sense that she had found herself in dire straits.

There was something familiar about the building she resided in, and he looked around as he tried to place why he felt as though he had visited it before. As far as he could tell, he must have simply passed through it, perhaps, while doing his research into the epidemic. So much had changed, it wasn’t worth digging within himself to pinpoint the memories.

The halls of the building were quiet, only the distant creaking of footsteps coming from the floor above him as he made his way inside. The heavy thud of his stride echoed on the stairs, and he looked around as he took in the decrepit interior once more.

Just as the rest of Whitechapel, it was clear the building had seen better days.

As he stopped before the door to Miss Blackburn’s, he hesitated and looked around. He wasn’t certain what made him pause, and he glanced over his shoulder as he tried to tune in to the feelings that were now so much a part of him. Down the hall, above and below him, he was aware of the sound of beating hearts, of blood rushing through veins. He thought he could hear conversations, as well as other intimate moments, giving evidence to so much vibrant life within these battered walls.

Yet he did not look within the Blackburns’ flat, resisting the urge to impose upon their privacy. He realized it came from a still closely held notion of gentlemanly conduct, which he clung to much as he did his Hippocratic Oath. In his eagerness to help Miss Blackburn he had not been able to resist charming her, knowing it was an innocent way to ensure he provided her assistance as well. Beyond that, though, he refused to act as more than _doctor,_ unwilling as he had been for months to cave to certain parts of himself.

Hopefully she was better from his efforts, and had been able to get some rest.

On that note of professionalism, he swallowed and rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. “Miss Blackburn? It is Dr. Reid,” he called to announce himself.

Footsteps quickly sounded on the other side, and the door opened a crack. One beautiful, sapphire blue eye peered out, the dark brow above it furrowed. At the sight of him the frown relaxed, and the door was opened to allow him entrance. After he had entered she quickly closed up behind him.

“Doctor Reid, I wasn’t expecting you.” Her voice was even, measured, and yet there was a hoarseness to it that made him pause.

Studying her face he noticed her nose was pink and raw, her eyes swollen and encircled by shadows. “I apologize for the late hour, yet again. I attended my rounds at Pembroke and then realized I still owed you a visit.”

“I appreciate it, but it was unnecessary, Doctor,” she demurred. She folded her arms across herself, lowering her gaze to the floor. The long, thick braid her dark brown hair was woven into fell over her shoulder as she did, and he frowned as he took in her appearance. He felt a bit as if he had still accidentally tread upon her privacy, seeing her hair down, but he also worried over the sight of her.

She did not, as he had hoped, look better than a few nights previous.

He gave in to the urge to determine the source, letting his senses heighten where he usually worked to restrain them. Her heartbeat was...irregular, perhaps from stress or nerves, he wasn’t certain. It wasn’t always simply fast, sometimes it was too slow, or sometimes it almost...hiccuped in its rhythm.

Glancing toward her mother’s room, he was surprised when he sensed — nothing.

“I came to see how things were coming along, your mother —”

“I — I am sorry to tell you that you are too late, Dr. Reid,” she murmured. Her voice cracked, and she turned away from him, arms still hugging herself as she stared into the small fire burning in the hearth.

A shuddering breath left her in short installments, and he knew she was trying to fight the urge to sob. The irregularities in her heart now made sense.

It was broken.

“Miss Blackburn, I am — truly sorry for your loss. You have my deepest, sincerest condolences,” he said, hoping she _could_ hear the sincerity in his voice. He knew such words could sound hollow, but he thought of the hole in his heart where Mary resided, and took a few steps towards her.

“Thank you.” The words were hardly a whisper, and he could tell she raised a hand to wipe at her cheeks. “I — I mean that for everything, Dr. Reid. Her last days were...much better, after you saw to her comfort.”

“I am glad I could at least provide her with that,” he agreed. “When did it...happen? Has she already been buried —”

“Yes, I came back just awhile ago from Stonebridge Cemetery. With what it was, I thought — a quick funeral was best. Hopefully contain any — any spread.”

“I am impressed by your decision, Miss Blackburn. As a doctor I feel I must thank you,” he told her. For a moment he allowed the silence to linger, clasping his hands behind his back and casting around the small flat for any other sign as to how things were.

“How has your sleep been, since last I saw you?” he finally asked.

“Better, as much as can be expected,” she answered. After another sniffle she turned to face him, brushing a stray tear off her cheek. She offered the slightest quirk of a smile, and he accepted it with a kind one of his own.

“Do you mind if I examine you, Miss Blackburn? I hope to find you well, but seeing as you have spent the better part of three years tending to your mother, I would like to make certain.”

“Of course, Dr. Reid.” She nodded briefly and stepped toward him, closing the distance until she peered up at him, waiting expectantly.

She was a beauty, and for a moment he let his gaze wander over her, unable to resist marveling at the signs of life so evident on her face. Even her grief, the reddening of her nose and eyes from the display, attested to the fact that she was so very much alive that it actually pained her.

As he withdrew his stethoscope he allowed himself his discreet examination. The things he could ascertain now amazed him, as he was able to see that she was fatigued, and stressed, her body showing all the physical symptoms of profound grief. Yet he could also tell that her body could not be older than five-and-twenty, and that something within her calmed as he stepped closer to her.

He could also tell that she did not carry infection within her, which caused him no slight amount of relief.

Still, to keep up pretenses he put the stethoscope to his ears, and breathed on it for a moment before reaching it to her. Instinctively he pushed aside the opening of her shirt, placing the metal against her skin, and immediately noticed the way her breath hitched in her throat. Her skin, he could tell, had erupted in goosebumps, and he withdrew the instrument with a frown.

“Apologies, Miss Blackburn, I can warm it more if you need me to.”

“No, I — it is fine, Doctor. Please continue.”

Her assurances contradicted the way her skin continued to show evidence of a chill, her breathing faster than it had been, heart quickening as he resumed his examination. She worried her full bottom lip between her teeth and swallowed hard, and when he moved the stethoscope lower he noticed that her pulse was positively racing.

He listened to her breathing, taking in all the signs of her nervousness, and frowned as if in concentration. The cause of her discomfort could not be determined, and he wondered if it was anxiety that she was to suffer the same fate as her mother.

Shifting his hand, he slid the stethoscope across her chest, intending to listen to her other lung. The action parted her blouse further, and he cleared his throat as he noticed a blush creep up the pale column of her throat.

“A-apologies, Miss Blackburn. Just a moment longer, if you could — take a deep breath for me.” He met her wide gaze, and nodded encouragingly as he rested his other hand on her shoulder to steady her.

Her heart only raced faster, but she gave a quick nod and did her best to take a deep breath.

Deciding he had played the role long enough, he withdrew the metal instrument and pocketed it once more. “Your lungs sound healthy, Miss Blackburn. I do not expect that you are ill in any way. Perhaps still in need of rest, but that will come with time.”

She adjusted the collar of her blouse, smoothing a hand down her front as she nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate you coming by —”

Several pounding knocks on the door interrupted her gratitude, and a look almost like terror came into her eyes. For a long minute she stood staring at the portal, jumping slightly when the knocks were repeated even more loudly than before.

“Oi, Blackburn — open up!”

The voice was vaguely familiar, and Jonathan glared at the offending wood, doing his best to determine who stood on the other side. Realization dawned on him of why this particular building seemed familiar.

_Cadogan Bates._

Before he could think to interfere, Miss Blackburn had taken a steadying breath and swept past him. She had folded her arms across herself once more, as if they could shield and protect her.

“It is late, Mr. Bates, could you please —” she tried calling through the door.

“Open up! It’s my building, innit? And you’re overdue, time to pay up!”

“Please, Mr. Bates, I need a few more days.”

The door rattled once more as the landlord pounded it with his fist, and Miss Blackburn took another deep breath before she opened it a crack. Immediately the door was pushed open further as Mr. Bates forced his way in, and she stumbled back slightly.

“Mr. Bates, please —”

“Your rent’s late, Miss Blackburn. I gave you time to bury your ma, but —”

His words trailed off as his eyes fell on Jonathan standing behind her, widening for a moment before they narrowed.

“Didn’t realize you were the sort.” Whether the sneer and jibe were directed at the doctor or the young woman was unclear, but Mr. Bates straightened himself after he said it and swaggered a few more steps into the apartment.

“D-Dr. Reid came by to see how I was faring,” Miss Blackburn began, but the landlord let out a scoff.

“Oh, aye, I’m sure he was.” He gave Jonathan a knowing look. “You come to collect too?”

“I am offended that you would imply that Miss Blackburn is that sort of woman, or I that sort of man,” Jonathan gritted out. “ _You_ should know my services are free to all who need them, _Mr._ Bates.”

The reminder did seem to permeate the man’s smug countenance for a moment, but his lip curled and he returned his attention to where Miss Blackburn stood near the door.

She wasn’t cowering so much as she seemed to be readying herself, delicate jaw set as she regarded the man before her with warning in her eyes. Yet her arms were still crossed as if they were armor, fingers digging into where they were covered by her blouse.

“Mr. Bates, the hour is late and I was being attended by my doctor. I must please ask that you give me more time, for I had to pay to bury my mother today and do not have the money I owe you.” Her voice was surprisingly firm as she said it, but she pressed her lips together as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“That’s a shame,” Mr. Bates told her, but the way that his eyes lit up with the words made Jonathan’s stomach turn. “If you can’t pay, I’ll have to turn you out. Unless you want to come to a... _different_ arrangement, hmm?”

The way his eyes roved over her made a visible shudder pass through her, and she took a step away from him.

“Mr. Bates, I must insist that you leave this premises now,” Jonathan cut in, saving Miss Blackburn from having to respond. He crossed to stand between them, reaching for the handle of the door as he did. “She has buried her mother today, and I will not have you stand here insinuating such things while she grieves.”

“Oh, I suppose I am interrupting you, aren’ I?” Mr. Bates gave a crude, exaggerated wink. “I’ll come back later for my own due, then.”

Jonathan wrenched the door open, doing his best to keep the rage unfurling within him from being released. Instead he silently jabbed a finger into the hall. “Out. Now.”

“I’ll be back later, _Miss_ Blackburn, so we can discuss this in _private_.”

The moment he was across the threshold Jonathan closed and locked the portal behind him, taking a moment to breathe deeply. His control was uncoiling, longing to break free from the way he always kept it so close in hand. He had to shut his eyes against the way his vision blurred, the anger winding itself around the need he denied, that he satisfied with repulsive acts for the sake of what remained of his humanity.

He refused to let a man like Cadogan Bates be the one who broke him, after everything.

“I apologize, Dr. —”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Blackburn,” he interrupted firmly, finally opening his eyes to seek out her gaze. He pushed away from where he had leaned a hand against the door, doing his best to collect himself. “Men like him are...detestable, and the true threat to London society.”

A brief smirk tugged at her rosy lips. “I fear there are few ways to stop them.” The smirk faded and she turned away, crossing to stand before the hearth once more as she ran a hand over her forehead. “To be honest, Dr. Reid, I don’t quite know what to do. I’ve been tending to my mother for so long, and all our money is gone. We barely had enough to make it this far, even living in this decrepit place.”

“Have you tried looking for work?” Jonathan turned away from the door as well, trying to think if there was any way he could help her.

“I haven’t had time, and the work I did before, I…” She trailed off, and then let out a soft sigh. “I was a governess, for a family in the country. Two little boys, a — a happy, well-to-do family. I was sorry to leave it, in all honesty, though I knew my mother needed me.”

“I am sorry,” he told her, circling the table to stand near her once more. “There are families in the West End, or perhaps they would take you back. Find a posting back in the country, away from all of this.”

“No, they — they have long since replaced me. And everything I need to resolve, now, after mum — I don’t have time to look in the country.” Her lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth to stop it before speaking again. “I wish she had waited until I was back, but when I returned to London I found her living here. Trying to save money once she could no longer work, I…”

She trailed off into a heavy sigh, shaking her head as she buried her face in one hand. Rubbing at her brow with her slender fingers, she let out a hollow laugh.

“You didn’t come here to listen to my troubles. I will be fine, Dr. Reid. I’m made of sturdy stuff, I’ll — I’ll manage. I appreciate you taking the time, though.” She turned to face him, a soft smile on her lips as she looked at him, but she continued the motion until she faced away from the fire. “I’ll see you out.”

Knowing he needed to take his leave, he studied her for a moment before reaching his own decision. He followed her to the door, tugging at his coat to adjust it as he offered her a kind and understanding look. “Take care, Miss Blackburn, and truly, my deepest sympathy for your loss. Should you need me again, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, I do. Night shift at Pembroke, if you’re not out doing good deeds elsewhere, it seems. Thank you.” Miss Blackburn opened the door, and after he had passed she met his gaze and smiled, a wider, brighter thing than she had managed before. “Good night, Dr. Reid.”

“Good night, Miss Blackburn. Do get some rest, and I wish you luck.”

Their farewells said, she closed the door between them, and he waited until he heard the sound of the door firmly locking before turning away.

He spent a moment calming himself before he let his senses sharpen, listening and sniffing slightly as he sought out the telltale sign of true ugliness of spirit.

The man seemed to have an office of sorts, or at least some sort of room, and Jonathan slowly made his way down the hall until he stood before the door. He considered knocking, lulling him into a false sense of security, but he remembered the way he had leered at Miss Blackburn and let his anger reign for the time being.

It was a situation that fully warranted such a display, as far as he was concerned.

Yanking the door almost off its hinges, Jonathan easily strode within while the crack of wood and metal still reverberated through the space. Bates pushed himself to his feet with a shout, but Jonathan was on him before he could form any coherent words.

 _“You will leave Miss Blackburn alone,”_ he demanded, allowing himself to _will_ the words and their intentions into existence. To allow them to be a command, something that could brook no denial, the way he had so many times before. Not since Aloysius Dawson did he think he had meant them more.

“You — you have no right —” Bates began to splutter, but Jonathan shook where he held the man’s coat until his teeth clicked together.

 _“You will not hound her for rent that is overdue. You will not attempt to blackmail her into another, different sort of arrangement. You will forget that she is late, and will thank her no matter what she pays you.”_ His eyes bored into the landlord’s, and he noticed the way they began to become unfocused and dull.

“But she — she _owes_ me. And I —”

_“She does not. And she certainly does not owe you any alternate method of payment. You will be grateful for anything she deems to give you, because a woman like her deigning to bestow any time on a horrid creature like you is more than you deserve.”_

Bates’ eyes glazed over further, his mouth going slack, breathing slowing until he relaxed in Jonathan’s tight grasp. “She doesn’t — owe. She can pay — what she can.”

“Good.” Jonathan considered for a moment before he narrowed his eyes once more. _“You will forget that I was here, or that I spoke to you. You decided this, out of the goodness of your heart.”_

“Yes. I...I decided this,” Bates repeated.

Jonathan glared for longer, waging a war within himself to declare his rage satisfied. Deep within him there still lingered the urge, the desire to go against everything he had stood for in his life. No one would miss a despicable human being like Cadogan Bates, and he would be helping Miss Blackburn and others in the process.

And he was so very, very _thirsty_. So thirsty he thought sometimes he might die all over again from the want of it, the overwhelming feeling of need.

_Despicable._

The word stuck in his mind and lingered after he thought it, until he managed to blink away the haze that had been clouding his judgment. No, he would not stoop to the same level as the man whose coat he still held in a vice-like grip. 

No matter the good it might do to rid the world of such a man.

 _Do no harm_.

After another deep breath, Jonathan managed to uncurl his fingers from the wool, and stepped back. His upper lip lowered from how it had pulled away, his sharp teeth longing to inch closer to warm flesh and pure, delicious blood.

Without a word he turned away from the temptation, marching from the room. He tugged at his tie as he rushed down the stairs, and did not feel as if he could fully breathe until he was outside, gulping in the smoke-filled, damp air.


	3. A Wind Blew Out of a Cloud, Chilling My Beautiful Annabel Lee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled over this chapter length since...you know...writer problems, but in the end it's as long as it needs to be. *shrugs*
> 
> xx

The suggestion lingered in the days as they passed, the effort she knew she needed to put in to right her situation and get herself back on her feet. It was difficult to think of anything beyond the pain in her heart, though, no matter the urgency of her state of affairs.

To her surprise, however, days passed and she was not visited once more by Mr. Bates. She had expected to find him banging on her door, perhaps even the very moment Dr. Reid left. Yet the next day all was silent and she found herself undisturbed. It soon became clear that he did not intend to further pester her for the rent, which did not actually make her feel better.

Unable to stand waiting on pins and needles until she was accosted yet again, she finally braved gathering what money she had before knocking on his door. When he opened it and apologetically bowed while asking how he could help, she found herself stunned into momentary disbelief.

“Apologies, Mr. Bates. I know I am still late on the rent —”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Blackburn,” he assured her, accompanying the words with another quick bow. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, and kept a respectful distance for once.

Thoroughly confused, she considered his strange behavior for a moment before clearing her throat to hold out a few bank notes. “It’s not everything, Mr. Bates, but this is what I have so far. Until I find employment.”

Without question, he took only half the notes she held. “Thank you, Miss Blackburn. This is more than sufficient, and I thank you for your time.”

“I — Mr. Bates, are you all right? This — this is not even half of what I owe you,” Annabel told him, and she tried to hold out the rest.

“This is fine, miss. And take your time, I know things have been difficult for you lately.”

With that, Mr. Bates gave her another deep bow, wished her a good day, and closed the door between them.

For a long moment Annabel stood staring at the wood, wondering what could have caused such a change in the man.

Instead of feeling reassured, she returned to her rooms with a strange sense of apprehension and dread. After the way he had barged in a few nights previous, she almost found herself expecting this to be a part of some more nefarious plot he was concocting.

The strange interaction was enough for her to finally lock her grief within herself, determined to find employment and move away from such an unpredictable landlord.

With that intention she set out the next day, again wearing her best woolen skirt and lace-trimmed blouse. She had taken the time to fix the hems, making certain there were no longer stray threads to betray her true circumstances to potential employers. Her boots were polished until they almost shone, which was the best she could do, considering their wear and age.

She carefully piled her hair on her head in her most elegant attempt to replicate the upswept bun reminiscent of a Gibson girl. At this point it almost felt dated, but added an air of respectability and helped accentuate her delicate features. If she needed to apply at the shops, the added prospect of fine looks could help endear her to the owners.

Setting out in the low winter sun of the afternoon, she made her way through Whitechapel and into the West End. If it came to it she would look for work in the other districts, but she hoped desperately she could find something that paid well in one of the nicer parts of the city.

Early after her return to London she had been able to find work in a lady’s dress shop, but she longed to return to her true calling. Without any connections she knew it would be difficult, but she had the letter of recommendation her former employer had given her, as well as her determination.

However, neither was enough to help her along.

Her inquiries for a position with a household led her nowhere. Everywhere was full, or worse — the times were changing, and the need for governesses was dwindling.

But Annabel was made of sturdy stuff, just as she had assured Dr. Reid. She and her mother had been alone long before her illness, and had worked to ensure Annabel’s education and future. They hadn’t been able to predict The Great War or Spanish Flu, but Annabel wouldn’t let anything stop her.

Not now.

After taking a break on a bench to calm her nerves and disappointment, she continued on. There were plenty of shops in the district, and when one would turn her away she carried on to the next. One owner politely refused the offer of hiring her because she was assisted daily by her daughter, and another told her they were fully staffed.

It wasn’t until she found a store run by an animated, portly man that she found a bit of hope. Mr. Calhoun Russel, as he introduced himself, had discovered during the epidemic that there was business to be had in the evenings. Yet he did not wish to work the evenings himself because he found it conflicted too much with his desire to support his favorite local eateries.

If she would start the following Monday, he was willing to take her on on a trial basis — so long as she did not mind working evenings alone.

Her luck felt double-sided with the proposal, but it was the only one she had received in a day of searching. The pay he proffered made her perk up, though, realizing that she would be able to quickly move out of the flat in Mr. Bates’ building.

Monday was agreed upon with a brief handshake.

As she left the shop she took in her surroundings, the beautiful estates that lined the same row as Mr. Russel’s shop, the wide intersection of the streets. There was an imposing, stately building surrounded by a stone fence and iron gate across the way. Annabel frowned as she considered it, wondering at its purpose.

“Women died too in the war!”

The shout pulled her from her musings, and she glanced to the side to see a woman around her age marching up the street. One hand was cupped to her mouth, and again she repeated her rallying cry.

Upon spying Annabel she stopped, and a determined look came upon her face as she began to close the distance between them.

“Excuse me, Miss, but are you part of the movement?” she demanded. There was a hint of a smile, almost like triumph, at one corner of her mouth.

“Move — oh, the suffragettes.” Annabel sighed and folded her hands before herself, looking aside to hide her embarrassment. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to dedicate to the cause…”

“And what was more important than your own freedom?”

Despite the question, there was a friendliness to the way it was asked that made Annabel inclined to answer.

“My mother was very ill, and I tended her for these three years past.”

“I see,” the woman mused slowly, then as if remembering herself she reached a hand to Annabel’s forearm. “My condolences, miss…?”

“Blackburn. Annabel Blackburn. And thank you.”

“My own mother has recently...left, to put it into simpler terms. But I am truly sorry.” The woman released her and then straightened her spine, pushing her shoulders back as if preparing herself. “Charlotte Ashbury, and a pleasure to meet you. Do you have time now, miss?”

Annabel considered, but a strange realization that she hadn’t truly had conversation with anyone save her mother in longer than she could easily remember kept her rooted to the spot.

Well, there had been Dr. Reid, but…

As she gave a placid nod for Miss Ashbury to continue, she thought over the brief conversations she had had with the doctor. He was gentlemanly etiquette and professionalism personified, yet there was also a strange allure that made her gravitate toward him which she could not explain. Perhaps it was simply gratitude and a feeling of indebtedness for the comfort he had given her mother, but she remembered how it had felt the first time his piercing gaze had fallen on her.

The way it had caused her to shiver had not been entirely unpleasant, and she couldn’t fully explain how in such short interactions she found herself wanting to learn more. If anything, the sight of such keen intellect and the curiosity of a scientist behind such profoundly blue eyes was enough to intrigue her hopelessly.

“Well, Miss Blackburn, would you like to help?”

Pulling out of her thoughts of the doctor, Annabel offered a smile and nodded. “As far as I can, yes. I — I do find myself in dire straits at the moment, but if I have the time I could help you canvass, or pass out pamphlets. Certainly, Miss Ashbury, I would —”

Her assurances were lost in the beginning of ice cold droplets falling on her face, and she saw the other woman’s eyes widen as well. They glanced up, only to be greeted by even more icy rain as the drizzle intensified into a downpour almost instantaneously.

“Oh — apologies, Miss Ashbury — it was lovely to meet you, but —”

“Yes, you as well Miss Blackburn!”

With that the two parted, and Annabel did her best to cling to the overhang of the buildings lining the street. The bridge into Whitechapel wasn’t far from where she was, and she dodged beneath awnings as she made her way through the rain. She kept her head down, watching where she stepped as she shielded her eyes with a hand against the force of the gales that had begun.

It had gotten dark, and she hadn't quite noticed it in the course of her pursuit for employment. Now though she slipped slightly on the cobblestones where she lost her footing, the rain-slicked stone only visible under the meager lamplight. Turning off toward the bridge back into Whitechapel, she crossed into a courtyard cast in shadows. Annabel kept her gaze down, trying to make certain she did not catch her toes on an uneven step.

The sound began as such a low rumble and wail she at first believed it to be the wind. When it continued to raise in volume, its pitch heightened into a shriek that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. An eerie sense of dread made her stop in her tracks, a hand shielding her eyes against the rain to see if perhaps someone needed assistance. 

Help was too late for the poor soul she saw beside the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Blood was running with the rain through the cracks between the stone, making a cobweb of dark red that glistened in the light of the nearest flickering lamp post.

Hunched over the body was a figure, beast-like in its posture, a horrid noise carrying over the wind as it scrabbled over the stone to reach more of its victim. With a sickening  _ crunch _ it tore into flesh and bone, snarling as it did.

Annabel screamed.


End file.
